Shadowcast
by NightshadeTwiningTheRosary
Summary: "When my grandma had first told me I was a witch, I had thought I was like every other girl on this side of the universe; hormones, puberty, the works. Magic? Nah, I didn't think so."  OS story about witchcraft. Full summary inside. PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**

_"When my grandma had first told me I was a witch, I had thought practically for, oh I don't know, sixteen solid years that I was like every other girl on this side of the universe; hormones, puberty, the works. Magic? Nah, I don't think so."_

_Résha Valentine is the last Valentine Princess._

_Her family's magic has been lost for over four centuries, out of sight from the powerful Royal Coven and those that would want it for themselves. Faced with constant threat against her from both enemies and those who are meant to be her comrades, she needs be extra careful who she trusts. Her very existence puts the welfare of mankind in her hands. _

_Résha has no clue who she really is orwhat she's capable of._

_But, Sylvain does. _

_Stuck in his own problems, gorgeous Sylvain finds himself crossing paths with the long lost Princess in a way that could turn her world upside down and kill her in the process. He's unpredictable and he's dangerous, but he's not what he seems. He has a secret that could cost him everything, including what he loves the most. _

_Who ever said school life was easy?_

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I write this a while ago, like about a year or something ago but I had no idea what category to put it in or even if I should upload OS on here. Seeing as I couldn't find anywhere else, I decided to give it a go~ Please R&R this! I wrote it with the intention of it becoming a novel one day and depending on reactions, etc, I'll upload the other chapters as well :) We'll just see how it goes~ Thank you to anyone that takes the time to read this and I hope it isn't that bad. It's UNBETA-ED so there will be grammers, etc. I'm sorry but I just fail in that area. I hope you like and let me know what you all think ^^**

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><p><span>Prologue: Rebirth<span>

_Six Months Before_

The man stood and watched with a passive distaste. The time he had waited should have been more than adequate for his experiment to have taken effect. As he watched the luxurious canopy bed holding the small boy, his distaste changed to that of boredom and impatience. No, it should not have taken this long, yet there were still no changes. The boy's chest hadn't risen once since the girl had died by his hands and he had ran to escape the mass of teachers that had poured from the grand building of Shadowcast Academy.

A sharp intake of breathe suddenly caught his attention and he rose from his leather seat behind the grand desk, strutting to him in a robust grace, a dark pleasure and satisfaction bubbling within the man as he strolled over to the bed. The boy was panting, upright and alert, clutching at his chest and looking around himself wildly. Upon seeing the man, he attempted to scurry away from him, almost falling from the tangle of sheets as he did, cursing heavily in what sounded like Spanish. He grabbed the boy's wrist, steadying him and counting the fluttering beats of his newly awakened heart. The boy stared, a pathetic string of whimpers coming from his lips as he stared the man down. Fear burned in his snowy gaze along with a careful wondering as he looked about himself.

"Are you a doctor? Where am I?" The boy croaked, his throat thick and dry and shaken with hapless confusion. The man smiled a disturbing smile, drawing a stone from his coat. He waved the stone over the boy's chest, contented when it glowed steadily, pulsing with light in a silent rhythm. Slipping the stone back into his pocket, the man nodded to himself, calculating.

"A doctor?" The man chuckled "Absolutely not. If I was, then you wouldn't be here, Mister de Silva"

"How do you know my name? Who are you?" The boy asked, his fingers twitching but failing to spark as a witch could. The man looked up at him, bemused by the boy's valour, trying to remain calm while questioning someone he had neither met nor probably thought he would meet. The man rolled up his sleeve for the boy, baring before his eyes rich and intricate tattoos down his forearm; blue words as light as lapis lazuli, in fluid Latin coating the surface. The man's eyes, the same shade as his marks, bore into the boy.

"_Jesus Cristo! _Your Highness." The boy breathed, reaching out to clasp the man's hand and gently brush his lips across it's surface. "Forgive me, I didn't realise…"

"Of course, how could you?" The man said, chuckling darkly "I've been off the map for quite some time. Tell me, boy, what name did your parents give you?"

"Christian." The boy answered with a sigh.

"Do you remember what happened to you, Christian?"

The boy shook his head, staring blindly. "I don't mean to be rude, Sir, but can you tell me where I am? What is this place?"

The man looked around the room; the dark wood panelled walls, the black marble floor and lush furniture. He supposed to less fortunate eyes, this room would appear rich and fabulous, even exquisite to the unknowing, and full of taste. A giant upside-down pentagram was embedded into one wall to the left of the bed the boy had been on, in real silver, shining. The man glanced at the symbol, then back at the imposing desk, built from genuine rosewood and encrusted in sapphire jewels and silver veining. Instead if answering, he went to it, removing a small double-edged steel knife with an onyx jewel in a smooth sphere attached to the hilt, imbedded with a crest of a black Triquatra on the blade. He drew a long silver chain out along with it, a shiny pendant shaped identical to the crest in the same shining onyx stone hanging loosely. He brought them over to the boy, who gasped, clutching at the chain like a desperate child and curling it around his neck. He stopped mid-clasp.

"It's cold." The boy commented, a tremor in his voice as his fingers locked around the pendant. "It was never cold before."

"That is because you are no longer a witch, Christian. You died." The man informed him, turning the blade in his fingers.

"Died?" Christian echoed "That's impossible, I'm still breathing. My heart still beats."

"Indeed," The man agreed, "but that is down to no miracle. You were brought back by something else entirely. Darkness brought you back."

Christian stared at the man in pure horror, his face paling to an ashy pallor that made him look absolutely sick. The deep purple rings under her eyes stood out like grotesque bruises as sweat beaded down his forehead.

"D-Darkness…?" The boy stuttered, flustered "No, I can't have-I'm not…"

"You are a Reaper, Christian. You killed a girl."

"No." The boy said stubbornly "It's not possible, I can't have…I don't remember-"

"Of course you don't," The man said "It was quite sudden."

"How-?" The boy started, but presumably decided better of it, rolling up the sleeves of his long shirt in a panic. A devastated cry parted from his lips when his eyes fell upon the white scars decorating his forearms, the marks that had once portrayed him a witch were now a milky colour and frayed, scored through with odd lines that gave a strange stitched-on appearance to the once-proud Triquatras. Burned lines of a corrupted witch, now stripped of colour and energy.

"Elise Schrager. You killed her over a week ago at your school. Slashed her throat. It was terribly messy." The man mused.

"Elise?" Christian questioned, his voice broken and disbelieving "But I would never-she was…she was…." He cried.

"Jealousy is a very strange thing, Christian. She tried to take Ethan away from you, don't you remember? In a fit of anger, you warned her to back off and leave you alone, but when she refused, you killed her. Later that night, you ran back to your room and, out of guilt and pain, killed yourself. Slashed wrists. Also terribly messy. You Reapers, you can't help yourself but die in a mess. It's awful really."

"Killed myself?" Christian looked down at his wrists, covered in a thin coating of bloody bandages wrapped tight. He tugged them, letting them flutter to the ground like ribbon. His fingers ran along the raised pink lines with a look of glassy amazement.

"You wouldn't have understood at the time. A Reaper has to die in order to come back -better whilst you're still sane in my opinion- so they often destroy themselves by a compulsion they cannot possibly comprehend. It's not an easy thing to deny, so I hear. You only did what would have came naturally to you."

"I still don't understand. Even if Elise had-" He stopped himself with a sigh "I would never have hurt her, she was Ethan's sister."

"She was a useless barricade in your relationship. You got rid of her, it is as simple as that. You destroyed her and with it, your own soul, to which the consequences are as they are. You became a Soldier Of Darkness."

"_Dios_." The boy sobbed "I-I actually killed her? She's dead, because of me?"

The man nodded, losing patience with the boy. None of the others had seemingly been this hard to convince, they all tended to accept the truth and deal with it as it was.

"_Dios_." The boy repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I-I'm a…a-a Reaper."

"You are." The man said. Christian looked up at him with searching eyes, hollow eyes that yearned for an explanation, a reason for his actions.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but…why are you helping me? I'm supposed to be your enemy. It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense." The man said, raising an eyebrow and challenging the boy to speak against him. He didn't, pleasing the man greatly, encouraged that this one could indeed be put to good use with the right amount of training.

"You see, young Christian, I am a man who is part of the Royal Coven but will never agree with their petty misguided beliefs. It is a great certainty of mine than Reapers and Witches can get along in harmony, providing there is trust and balance."

"A Reaper is a killer," The boy said, too fast because after he had said it, he pursed his lips, the bottom lip quivering. "_I'm_ a killer." He whined "I'm going to spend the rest of my existence taking the lives of other witches. How is that moral?"

"A misfortunate necessity." The man agreed "But no peace is without penance. If a few hundred witches must die in order to gain a resolution, then so be it. It is a worthy price for a more cooperative race."

"Not many will see it your way, Sir."

The man's eyes flashed warningly, sparking in a sudden fluster of anger.

"Do you not think I am aware of the difficulties, boy?" He snapped "You are but one of many other children who have been brought through these doors in the hopes of a peace. So they can live alongside friends and family with no judgement because of something as ridiculous as a single witch's death. If it were possible, would you not choose to live with your Ethan, in peace, without being attacked?"

"It isn't possible. Not now." The boy murmured.

The man took the boy's face in to his hands, holding it gently and seating himself on the soft velvet sheets beside him. In his eyes, the man could see the boy's longing, his desperation and pain. Living the life he had had before was something he craved very much and the man could see it all too easily. It would drive him to do anything that was necessary if he knew it was in his grasp, that it was as possible as he claimed it wasn't. The man's lips curled into a smile, a dark and disturbing on of victory and satisfaction to himself, but warm to the boy. He had found something for the boy to cling to, something that would give him determination. He had found his weakness and now, all he had to do was make it believable.

"It is possible." The man whispered "There is a way. It will be difficult and it will be hard but, if you are willing to assist me, you will be with your Ethan in less than a year from now."

The boy's eyes glowed with hope, a faint happiness and faith that was on the verge of believing, the verge of falling and tipping him into the man's grasp.

"How?" He breathed

"Easy." The man smiled "You see, my sources have informed me of some very delicate information. Information that can only be shared with those I trust."

"You can trust me," The boy said desperately, grasping the man's hand "I swear. I'll do whatever you want. I'll help you, do whatever it takes."

The man grinned, delighted with the outcome of his experiment. It had gone as successfully as he had hoped.

"Well," The man chuckled "Then let us get started."


	2. 11: Awakening

**A/N: Seeing as the prologue doesn't give you all much to go on, I thought I'd introduce to you the main character of this story with the first chapter. Thanks to Leo for telling me what you thought of the Prologue. I'm glad I have you intruiged. Let's hope others feel the same as you ;) As always, totally UNBETA-ED so there will be grammers in there, spelling, etc. Please look past them and tell me what you think ^^**

**Disclaimer: I own everything in this fic. It is entirely my own works, with the exception of the Latin used. I didn't create that language LOL I just find it awesome~ The characters, plot, and everything else are all mine.**

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><p><span>1.1: Awakening<span>

Starting a new school, ain't that a bitch?

It bloody well was when I had no clue what I was doing. My mother might as well have just told me I was up for adoption, it was some form of a goddamn explanation but no, it'd all been like, yeah I'll drop you off here and you have a fabulous time, Bob's-your-uncle-Fanny's-your-aunt. Just like that -not even a real goodbye- it was pathetic. I had to have been the single most rejected person on the face of the earth with the way I felt right then. You know, because I had totally been to London before in my entire life, or even anywhere close to it other than lame-o Chester-bucket-of-balls-field. Totally.

Sigh. There was really nothing else I could do about it, I was practically in the middle of a forest somewhere with nothing to see but a ginormous set of wrought iron gates smack bang in my face. Let me tell you, when my grandma had first told me I was a witch, I never in a million years would have guessed I'd had to move school or anything. Never. In fact, I had thought practically for, oh I don't know, _sixteen_ _solid years_ that I was like every other girl on this side of the universe; hormones, puberty, the works. Magic? Nah, I don't think so.

So I was smack-bang in the middle of all of this with really no clue what was going on, where I was or even what I was going to be up to for the next two years of my education. I felt like frigging Harry-bloody-Potter on his first trip to Hogwarts.

The only problem was, this school looked nothing like Hogwarts. Not from what I could see through the gate anyway. Which was nothing but stinking trees. Sigh. All I had to do now was find a way to get in. No probs, right? Should be easy, it _was_ a school. Kids went here, or that was what I was betting on.

I pressed the buzzer on the side of the gate, tapping my biker-booted toe away impatiently until some woman's voice croaked through the receiver. The little camera turned to face me.

"Can I help you?" She asked, sounding about as bored as I felt.

"My name's Résha, I'm supposed to be a student here," I told her, brushing my fringe out of my face and lowering my Ray Bans so she could see my flaming eyes. "This _is _Shadowcast Academy, right?"

The woman didn't say anything. Instead a loud buzzing sound drifted through the speaker and the gates swung open.

"Welcome to Shadowcast, Miss Valentine. Please report the main office." She said. I had no clue how she knew my surname, I hadn't exactly specified. For the entire span of my life until now, Valentine had always just been the name of my ancestors. I'd actually been called Ashvale, taking my father's surname, just like everyone else. Only my grandma had ever reminded me that I should have been named Valentine. I'd had no clue why.

Something told me this year was going to be interesting, if anything else.

"Thanks, sure…" I mumbled, trailing off. Picking up my huge lace-décored suitcase, I began my decent down a long winding road populated by row after row of autumn trees. It was like walking through a park, walking down that drive, though a hell of a lot more colourful and fun. Hey, it wasn't often that at sixteen years old, I could walk through a huge bank practically exploding with masses of warm colour. It also wasn't often that I could get away with wearing my favourite floral and lace knee-length dress in cool weather either but today the air seemed unseasonably warm for late September. Well, warm to say that winter was practically just around the corner. I wasn't dumb, I'd worn leggings underneath. I mean, I wasn't a _complete_ moron. This _was_ Britain. A denim jacket too.

Reaching the bottom, I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping. No, I mean it, I _literally_ couldn't. It just did. Drop, I mean. All the way down the bloody floor.

I suppose I'd expected some creepy castle or a mansion. All doom and gloom and _mwahahahaha _kind of creepiness. The usual cliché bull, but no. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Shadowcast Academy was as shadowy as my hair, which was zilch considering I was (practically) blonde -I liked to think of it more…honey coloured as it stood. Blonde kind of made me feel like a bimbo, which I wasn't. The building was beautiful and open, like nothing I had ever seen. Made up of glass and wash-board white paint, it was simple yet dazzling -more like a Malibu beach house than a school- with the occasional banner of grey stone flowing down like waterfalls. It was like art, magnificent and ultra modern. It also had three floors, capturing and reflecting the buttery rays of sunlight on the glass perfectly.

A wooden sign above the glass porch declared the school's name in thick bold letters, a golden sun outlining behind the font, a navy crescent moon lining overlapping one half like it was half eclipsed. It was a cool symbol.

I walked through the huge porch, trailing my case behind me up the huge stairs just before the door. I could feel a grin curling on my lips as I looked around myself in wonder. The place reminded me of what those fancy looking art galleries in places like Paris and Venice looked like in films, all white and smart and clean. A huge mahogany desk hung near a wall like a conveyor belt, a dark-haired young woman manning it. She looked impeccably smart in a dusty rose skirt-suit, but at the same time, totally relaxed like she had the easiest job in the world, deeply involved in a conversation with a man about the same age as her, around about early twenties. He was as good looking as she was. Her gaze flickered to me as I approached the desk, patting the shoulder of her comrade. He looked behind him, his dark eyes meeting mine before he picked up a stack of files and left swiftly. The woman came up to me eagerly, her soft green eyes lit up from behind her black rims with a serene smile. A long silver chain hung down her form, a pendant of something resembling a female figurine with three different sets of emerald, crystal wings unfurling from it's back, hung between her bosom. Her Talisman, I realised. Every witch had one to symbolise their family name and the abilities that came with their bloodline. That's what my grandma had told me anyway.

"Miss Valentine, I was informed by the office you were coming. My name is Madeline, I'm the High Priestess here at Shadowcast. The young man you just saw is Gregory, he's one of the others. Charming gentleman." She said, clearing her throat and touching her hair like it had fallen out of place from it's perfect bun, which it hadn't. I nodded to her, acknowledging her presence with a coy grin as she extended her hand towards me. I took it, shaking her hand.

"Résha."

"A pleasure, really. It always an privilege to meet someone with your calibre of talent," She smiled "You're later than most of the other new students but you're here nonetheless. We should get you settled in so you can prepare for your Awakening, it's always a tiring process. The sooner the better."

"My what?" I asked her, perplexed.

"Your Awakening; the point in a witch's life when they receive their magic. It's a very simple process, you simply read the opening incantation in your Grimoire. It'll be fine, I assure you. Every witch before you has gone through the same thing."

She shuffled a pile of papers beside her, straightening the pile on the wood. Leaning behind it, she disappearing for a brief second then reappearing again with a key-ring looped around her manicured fingers. A strange feather patterning decorated her hands and fingers in bright green ink similar to that of her eye colour. She swung the keys around her finger in a fluid motion, taking my hand with her other and placing them in mine. She curled my fingers around the keys with a gentle smile.

"These are the keys to your room. I trust that you'll be fine finding it on your own, it should be just down the hall and through the door into the courtyard. The girls dorm is the building on your left. I hope you settle in well."

Madeline took me into her arms, filling me with an awed confusion. I'd never really been one to fall in to the arms of a stranger but when she hugged me, I felt perfectly at ease. It felt right, like she was my sister or something.

"Welcome to Wicca, my sister." She said softly in my ear. She released me -somehow too soon- sweeping away and heading up a set of huge silvery stairs in an easy grace so that I was alone in the white room.

Heading in the direction she had said, the corridor reminded me of an art gallery even more. Strange metal statues and structures decorated the floor where there wasn't a door, but somehow it wasn't cluttered. It seemed like a nice and calm afternoon at Shadowcast, nobody was out in the huge courtyard. It's green grass plains and benches surrounded with saplings were bare, as was the huge fountain right in the centre. It was almost barren from life. Two huge white buildings branched off from the serene gravel path which I presumed were the dorms. I took the left path, listening to the clacking sound my suitcase made as it ran along the stones. Staring dreamily at the female dorm's glass wall on it's bottom floor, I barely realised when I suddenly collided with another person, crashing into them and stumbling backwards a few paces.

"Sorry…" We both said in unison, the boy I had hit bending down charitably to pick up the keys I had dropped. A charming smile was on his lips as he placed them back in my waiting palm.

"Pathways, huh? You follow them and yet you still end up in a traffic jam. Sorry about that." He said in a smooth voice, almost like liquid gold, it was rich and husky. Much like his appearance, actually. He was, without a doubt, totally smoking hot. Luxurious auburn flicks spiked out around his chiselled face, contrasting with the shocking aquamarine of his eyes. He, like Madeline, had a silver chain hanging on his chest. A weird heart shaped locket hung from it, but where the door should have been solid, it was made up of bars like a cage of claws ensnared together in the centre -holding captive within it's grasp a glowing pearl the same shade as his eyes- where the tips met and crossed like intertwined fingers. Turquoise tattoos of words in a foreign language wrapped around his hands and up his forearms where his black t-shirt bared his creamy toned skin.

"No, it's fine." I insisted, a scarlet blush warming my cheeks "I should have looked where I was going, it's no big."

"I insist. They really need to make these things wider." He shrugged, slipping a hand into his faded jeans pocket and offering the other towards me "Sylvain Wintercrest. I'm new here, just came this morning. It takes some getting used to, staying in the dorms."

"A wild child, huh?" I chuckled, my neck burning as I took his hand. His skin was so soft yet his grasp was firm. He was definitely a steady guy. "Résha Ashvale-I mean, Valentine." Damn, that was going to take some getting used to.

"Valentine?" He asked, his brows flickering up suggestively, mischief beginning to spark in his eyes as a dark smile curved his lips "That's some heritage you got, if you don't mind me saying. A _very _interesting heritage, indeed."

"I wouldn't know. I'm new to this, kind of. My family never really told me anything about me being a witch until a few weeks ago. I thought they were crazy." I told him. It was odd to see such an expression lighting his features, one of knowing and danger. Grandma had said that people might react like this to me, something to do with my family history and some of the things my ancestors had done. It was never all black and white. She had just told me that I came from one of the most powerful bloodlines in Wiccan history and that I just had to accept that and do the best with what I could about it. My fingers reached for the pendant that hung in the middle of my own chest; an antique, original nineteenth century pocket watch, an amber cog glinting through the small circle window in the door, encircled in an intricate brass patterning. It glowed under my touch, catching the eye of the boy in front of me.

"Even so," He said, his eyes running back to my face "you might want to be careful who you give your name out to. Trust is a funny thing, especially amongst strangers when you have the kind of…influence, that you do. Just a little advice." He smiled cockily, releasing my hand.

"Thanks, I'll be sure to remember it." I chuckled, staring after him even after he had pushed himself past me and through the main door I'd just come out of. Him and his sexy Batman belt buckle. Influence, what the hell was that? That guy had some serious wording. My grandma would say he was trouble for sure. The whiz of witchcraft and all things weird and yet she still could judge me on the guys I liked, it was insane. A goofy grin crossed my lips, my eyes rolling dreamily. I hoped I'd be seeing Mr. Wintercrest very soon. Very soon indeed.

I still had that same puppy-sucker grin on my face when I rolled in to the dorm. I had my own version of endorphins colouring my skin every time my thoughts flickered to my little red-headed advisor. I couldn't getting him out of my mind, especially not the way his tee had hugged his figure so tightly and set my mind racing. It was no secret I hearted his form. God knows how many doors I passed day dreaming; one, two, another floor; three, four, where's my door? Probably at least five hundred. When I _did_ find the one marked on my key though, I did feel extremely relieved. I was tired of lugging the same heavy suitcase around. I just wanted to fit in and start my witch training. More importantly, I wanted to _be_ a witch. I wanted to do the Awakening thing that Madeline had mentioned, the one that would give me my own tattoos coating my forearms to my elbows and my hands like all witches had to represent their powers. I wanted to _have_ powers even thought nobody had told me what they would be except for that they had been in my bloodline for generations, whether or not my mother had been a coward and had refused to receive them.

The door jammed when I tried to open it, causing itself unnecessary violence that included my boot and it's surface, so I could swing the case in and relieve myself of it's burden.

I slammed the door shut behind me, collapsing on the huge canopy bed with a frown as I scanned the room. It was extraordinarily nice, in fact, it was _very_ nice. Nicer than I expected anyhow. Plush cream carpet and magnolia walls. Soft, silky pillows and sheets of a similar shade covered the bed along with transparent veils draping the frame. The rest of the furniture was in a light wood; a crescent moon-shaped desk, a cream arm chair behind it, a set of draws and cupboard, a bookshelf. It was exceptionally nice, but that wasn't what made me frown.

What made me frown was the huge sandy tabby cat sat on the desk staring at me.

It wasn't the fact it was staring at me either, it was the how part that made me feel awkward. It was staring at me like it was waiting on something, waiting on _me_. It was rather depressing. I was stuck in a school of freaks of which I was a new recruit, I was probably going to be stuck here for the next two years, I had just met a really sexy guy that had frazzled my thoughts and now…now a goddamn was cat was glaring at me like I was supposed to be doing something else _other _than worrying about my life. Stupid cat, it had no right to judge me. It was a cat, for crying out loud.

"What, you wanna give me some advice too?"

I couldn't believe I was actually talking to a cat. Definite proof I was insane, yet it tilted it's head at me, it's pale blue eyes watching. It was acting like it had actually _understood_ me, which I couldn't believe, it _was_ a cat after all.

Sighing, I rolled over onto my stomach, lazily kicking my legs over so I could walk over to it.

It was bigger than I had expected, I had to admit, to say it was all fur. Bigger than your average house cat in any case and perfectly slim line. He -or she, since I didn't know- was a gorgeous animal. It wasn't wearing a tag either, bonus on it's part, talk about a rebel cat. Had it climbed in through the window? I looked over, taking in the afternoon sky as it had begun to darken and the sunset colours of gold, coral and violet streaked the sky. It was closed, so the window hadn't been it and, as far as I knew, the door had been locked so that wasn't it either. Sherlock, I have a mystery on my hands, I thought, tickling the cat under it's chin. It rubbed my face against my palm, purring loudly.

"So, you don't have an owner, huh? What a shame."

The cat stared at me with big blue eyes, purring louder and snaking around my arm, tickling my skin. I chuckled. Did it really think it could get around me that easily, seriously? Did I really seem like the crazy cat-lady type to this feline, because that was a serious insult. I'd actually pictured myself more of a dog person, to be honest.

"Buttering me up isn't gonna help, kitty. I don't even know if pets are allowed on campus so…you're outta luck, sorry." Needless to say, the cat didn't stop, in fact it got _more_ persistent, licking my fingers.

"All right, all right. You can stay, but we gotta set some house rules…" I picked the cat up, frowning and looking under it's belly. It wasn't the most gracious way to check it's gender, I must admit, but it was the simplest "Dude." I frowned. "That means no rolling on my bed and no sneaking out. If I get caught and it turns out you're a not-allowed, I'm blaming you all the way."

I probably looked ridiculous, talking to a damn cat. I guess I was glad nobody was in the room. That would have been so good for my reputation, when I get one.

"You need a name at least, I can't keep calling you 'cat', can I?" The cat licked my nose gently when I sat in front of it, head on hands. "But what to call you, hmm…."

I thought about it, wondering exactly what to call him. Something came to me, I don't know where from but it did, just out of nowhere.

"Indi." I confirmed "I'm gonna call you Indi, does that sound good to you?"

He nuzzled his face in my fingers so I took that as he liked it, he wasn't exactly going to tell me any other way.

Just then a gentle rapping on my door made me jump out of my skin, swerving to look at the door. Indi looked unamused, probably peeved from being denied his chance at having his chin being tickled.

"Come in." I yelled. I hadn't unpacked yet but, oh well. At least the place was clean which was more than I could say it would be when I did unpack.

The door opened with a creak, a girl sticking her head around the corner with a gentle smile on her face. She looked nice, but I was basing this on nothing. Pretty too, to say the least, with olive skin and soft features -that is if you didn't count the full lips that somehow gelled even though you wouldn't think they would- everything was stylised and shaped to perfection. She also looked like she had major attitude too which was cool, sporting a slinky shiny dark bob curving around her face with the ends dyed red, like wild fire creeping up the strands. She had a ruby nose stud in too, along with a slight creepiness factor. By that, I was meaning her eyes because -to me- they looked _red_ from this distance and by red, I meant blood crimson. Those eyes made me shiver, even if they were demonstrating a gentle context.

"Hey, you just moved in, right?" She asked me in a slightly accented voice, I didn't get chance to answer though, she was straight in there. "I'm Mercedes, I live in the room next door so I thought I'd come say hi."

Mercedes looked about the room with a disapproving expression, her curved eyebrows coming together. "I see you haven't unpacked yet. You really should, dinner will be being served soon and then the Awakening ball will be starting. That ball is something you don't really wanna miss."

"Résha." I smiled, introducing myself. I was very careful to take Sylvain's orders and refrain from spilling my surname. Something in the way he had said it had made me think that it might cause an upset. I didn't want to scare a potential friend.

"And why is that?" I asked her, bored somehow. Her eyes widened and she stepped into the room fully, revealing the rest of her body. There was plenty to reveal, mind you, considering what she was wearing didn't leave much to the imagination. A red scoop-neck crop top with elbow length flare sleeves and low-hanging denim cargos definitely complemented a curvaceous figure like hers, let me tell you. It was obvious she had never been low in the dates department when she dressed like than, talk about _va-va-voom_ in the highest sense. A silver belly ring hung from her navel.

"Well, if you want to attend classes than, you kind have to be at the ball to get them. If you don't attend then Madeline will just hunt you down so…there's really no point in avoiding it really. Hey, is that your cat?"

I nodded, taking in what she had just said. Madeline hunting me down, yeah, that seemed like something to definitely avoid like the wind. She was somewhat an experienced adult witch that could probably kick my arse very thoroughly. I glanced at Indi, watching him weave in and out of my arms.

"He's gorgeous." She said, taking on a dreamy expression "But then again most Familiars are. Especially in human form after you Awaken. I'm surprised you got a male actually, usually girls get the girls and guys get the guys, what's up with that?"

I noticed that Mercedes didn't have tattoos on her arms and hands so, just like me, she hadn't opened her Grimoire and cast her Awakening spell yet. Something we would have to do before tonight's ball and had every intention of doing soon. She didn't even wear her Talisman around her neck, which was odd. It was more than likely in her room. She came over, brushing her hand along Indi's back with a smile.

"You mean we're allowed to keep pets? I just found him here and decided to keep him. His name's Indi. It just came to me, I don't know why."

She looked at me, stunned and somewhat confused "Of course you get to keep him, he's here _because _of you. He knew you would be here so he waited on you, that's what a Familiar does, all witches have one in some shape or form. It just so happens you got a cat, like me. When you Awaken, he'll change into a human form now that you've named him. He'll advise you, protect you and be your friend when nobody else will. Don't you know all of this already?"

I shook my head "I'm fairly new to all of this. I only know bits and pieces and a transmogrifying cat was not one of those things or a…_Familiar_, whatever you called it. I thought he was just a cat that happens to like me."

She chuckled, shaking her own head "Nope, he's so much more than that."

Her eyes suddenly lit up, as if an idea had sparked into her head and she started bobbing up and down on the spot. Talk about eager, her boobs were practically jumping out of her blouse. Something I wasn't specific about seeing, T.B.H.

"Hey I've got an idea, seeing as none of us have Awakened yet, do you want to do it together? Then you'll see what I mean about Indi being special."

"Um…sure." I smiled, feeling strangely comforted that I wouldn't have to do the most life changing ritual in my entire existence all by myself. There could be no harm in it, I supposed and plus, I figured it would help me get to know her better.

Mercedes suddenly seized my hand, pulling out into the hallway and into her own room exactly one space to the left of mine. I barely even had time to grab my own book -which had mysteriously appeared on my desk exactly when I had needed it- when I could have sworn it should still have been in my suitcase. I hadn't touched it, yet it was in my fingers…like magic, I guess. I internally chuckled at my own joke, glancing around my neighbour's room with wonder. I pondered exactly how long she had been here, it had to have been days with the level of décor that she had secured. It was nothing close to the cream that I had, it was more or less the exact and complete opposite. Her walls were a dark purple, for a start, her floor made up of a dark wood. Where my furniture had been light, hers was jet-black, liquid and smooth, like they were made of metal instead of wood, shiny and absolute. Her bed was still a canopy but it also seemed to have changed shape, again metallised with the bars composed of twisted black iron decorated with roses and ivy, _real_ purple roses and ivy and a swirling headboard. It was also circular, as apposed to my casual square. Transparent violet lace curtains floated down from the canopy, giving the lilac sheets an indigo haze. The shelves were covered in books and thick volumes as well as various vials and bottles of God-only-knows-what. She even had a pencil pot on her desk, which disturbed me. How she had managed to find the time to do this when my grandma had told me the new kids would be arriving only this morning, was beyond me even if we _were_ in a school for witches. It was insane, completely insane.

"Nice digs." I said softly to her "How did you get time to do this?"

She chuckled, heading around her desk and taking out a smooth book bound in red velvet. "I didn't, my cousins did. My family's inherited gift is conjuration. They can make anything come to life that's been drawn by their hands. It's quite cool. Of course, it'll be even cooler when I can do it myself after the ritual. Ain't that right, Salem?"

A magnificent cat emerged from under her desk, padding along the ground then leaping on her bed so she could curl up and sleep. The violet veils gave the cat's black and silver stripes a darker, more exotic colouring.

"I take it, that would be your Familiar." I said, pointing to the cat.

"Yep." Mercedes said, opening a draw under her bookcase and taking out some candles "She's a bit lazy but…what can I say? She's beautiful."

"You're not from around here, are you?" I asked her, still puzzling over her weird accent. It sounded familiar but I wasn't sure why or how. She smiled.

"You're right, I'm not. Is it that obvious?" She began circling around where I was sat cross-legged with her candles, placing one every so many feet and leaving a gap of space for herself.

"No, not really, just your accent."

She chuckled again, lighting the candles with a match then taking a seat in front of me and lighting the candle between us. Her book was held in her lap, a silver chain between her fingers.

"My family has Italian origin originally. I guess it's still with us. It also doesn't help that one of my aunts lives in Tuscany, of course, or that my mamma runs an Italian restaurant. So…such is life." She sighed. She pronounced the word _mamma_ in two syllables when she had said it, it sounded so strange that I had to restrain myself from smiling.

Mercedes was jingling her chain in her fingers and holding it up in the light so I could see it's delicate pendant. A thick ring of silver swung in the air mildly, a crystallised crimson feather with a pointed end -a quill, I recognised from _Harry Potter_- staked straight through the middle like a sword, breaking the curve straight through in two places. It was pretty. I watched as she slowly removed the quill from the Talisman, twisting the top of it with a subtle click. Right before my eyes, the nib of the quill changed, elongating into a thin bony key she slipped into the silver lock in the centre of the book that held it closed, bound by black leather straps. It was amazing that something so small held so much power, it was only the size of a regular hardback book, maybe a little bigger and probably just as thick. It looked lighter than it was though, I gave it that. I knew that from personal experienced how heavy these things were and they were _heavy_ to say they were just books. Mine alone more than likely weighted a couple of pounds all on it's own.

The lock clicked, straps falling away as a design started to etch it's way into the cover, a pattern of burned-in lacy butterflies with a flat silhouette of her Talisman in the centre. The word _Crossceria _slowly emerged under the Talisman print, baring her family name. It looked almost completely different to what it had. Mercedes slipped the quill back into the circlet, twisting the end back the way so it regained it's former appearance. Quite sneaky, if I do say so myself.

Her eyes were upon me with an expectant glance than I tried to shy away from. Her scarlet gaze freaked me out a little.

"Aren't you going to open your Grimoire?"

I shrugged, twisting the watch in my fingers. I had no clue how to open the book. I could see that it had a lock on it like hers but my book looked completely different, it wasn't velvet or red. It was black and cool, coated in cracked and veined leather. The lock was near the end of the book, like a diary's, but tarnished. It didn't look anything close to the glamour that Mercedes's had. It looked as beat up and worn out as was expected considering it's age. One corner was even discoloured and rough, grey like ash, as if had caught fire randomly. I hadn't the foggiest how this thing worked.

"I…don't know how." I mumbled pathetically but her smile was gentle. She held out her hand towards me, touching my shoulder with the other.

"Don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed off. Pass me your Talisman and I'll show you. Everyone's new in the beginning, you have to start somewhere." She said. I pulled the chain over my head, coiling it in her fingers. She turned the watch over and over in her hands, as if weighing it, pushing the button at the top to snap the door open. An expression of determination coloured her features as her hand smoothly brushed the face, tapping at it. Something sparked in her gaze after a few minutes and she begun clawing at the face, shocking me when she pulled it free from the watch, baring all the old clockwork inside, locked together in a permanent motion as it had for the entire duration of it's existence more than a hundred years previous before being handed down by the same single amber cog. Brusquely, she turned the amber cog a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees with a smile, like a phone dial, widening it to a grin when it made a series of clicks like it was counting down from something. _Click. Click. Click_. Suddenly the cog flipped in on itself, spinning all the way around so that it was in the same position but where it had been alone and plain, a tiny brass key was held within it's jagged circumference. Mercedes took the key, holding it and the watch, out to me in her palm.

"Most of the time it's just a case of twisting it but the problem is also mostly _where_ to twist it or even how. You get some freaky keys in this day and age." She said, still beaming.

I took the key, turning it in the lock and watched in amazement as a symbol started to emerge in the leather, like it was rising from the depths of the ocean until an imprinted hourglass sat in the centre. In a flash of light it suddenly turned amber, the cracks and veins in the leather sewing back together as if they had never happened, the burnt corner turning back to it's full glory. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the magic happening in front of me, it was just so unbelievable. Orange circles with jagged edges, like the cogs in my clock, decorated the leather, the letters of my Wiccan surname slowly beginning to curl their way through the material.

"Valentine." I heard Mercedes breathe, the red of her eyes darkening. "Your surname is Valentine." It wasn't a question and she knew it. I nodded feebly. She placed a hand on mine. I looked up at her, surprised to see her features were still soft, still open as if it had not phased her. That or she was good at hiding her emotions. My grandma had also warned me there was much fear in my family name, a lot of pain that some didn't forget. She had said it would be normal for them to fear me.

"You have a great gift." She said to me, softly. "I'm honoured, your Grace."

"Others don't think so, they're afraid of me." I confessed, a fear for myself curling in my stomach. I truly had no idea what was going to happen once I Awakened but my family had a bad reputation and I didn't know why. They had done something that had made their name well known to every other witch I had met -I know two wasn't many but it was more than I had anticipated and both had reacted- and it was something that had caused people to fear them. That wasn't what I wanted for me, not in the least bit.

"Magic is defined by blood." She said "How you use it, is not. A name doesn't mean anything, it's just a label. It's how you use the name that counts. Never judge a book by it's cover, that's what my mamma always taught me."

I gave her a gentle smile, squeezing her hand "Thanks, it's nice to know someone likes me. Shows I might _actually _fit in here."

"You will." She said "Now, are we gonna do this or what?"

I nodded, taking a deep breathe through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. It was now or bloody never. One way or the other, I'd have to get this over with sooner or later unless I wanted to be like my mother and be a coward. I didn't want that, not in million years. She'd screwed up her own life, I wasn't going to screw up mine. We opened the first page of our Grimoires together, joining hands. My eyes squinted to try and read the curly handwriting that the spell had been written in but it wasn't even in English. How the hell was I supposed to read something I couldn't even interpret?

"It isn't in English." I stated, like always. My grandmother always told me I stated the obvious far too many times. One of these days I know she's going to give me a snarky comment back and it'll be my own fault, I thought. Mercedes nodded.

"It's Latin, most witches use it to cast magic. Once you start reading you'll get the hand of it, it'll just come to you as if it was natural, don't worry."

"Okay." I breathed. Mercedes inhaled deeply, shuffling in her cross-legged position. "You ready?" She asked me "You can still back out if you want. Once it's done, it can never be undone. Once a witch, always a witch."

"No, I want to do this. I'm ready. Just say the word."

Mercedes smiled at me an encouraging grin, nodding then closing her eyes, preparing herself before she began to chant. I followed her lead, reading in the same rhythmic pace that she was, interpreting the Latin words. She was right, after the first line was done, I didn't even need to read from the book anymore, the words came to me as simply as if I had been born to read them. Even their translation came simple and they seemed to just roll of my tongue, each syllable perfect and clean, crisp as the winter air when you step out of your front door.

"_Release the Darkness,_

_Release the Light,_

_Release my magic into this night_

_Blood of my blood_

_Heart of my heart_

_Show me my ancestors_

_Show me the start! _"

The words just kept coming, one after the other and before I knew it, I was on the third or fourth verse of the chant, it was coming to an end. Too soon, much too soon.

"_Corpus corporis mei_

_Anima animae meae,_

_Animam nostram conecte_

_Quod desidero_

_In Illo qui Vinctus est_

_Mea salus, vitae meae!_

_Body of my body_

_Soul of my soul_

_To our spirit bind_

_That which I yearn for_

_In the One who is Bound_

_My salvation, my life!"_

The last six lines of the incantation sent shivers up my spine, the inside of my eyelids turning bright red with the newfound light than appeared before our eyes. I heard Mercedes gasp, opening my eyes in wonder. She had let go of my hands and was holding her own, her eyes wide. They were coated in a bath of scarlet light, a wild wind whipping her hair around her face. A hysteric chuckle escaped her lips.

"Résha, look! Your hands!" She giggled excitedly.

I looked down at my palm, grinning a goof grin of shock and amazement at the warm feeling that had begun to surround me. My hair was wild, slashing at my vision while I tried to interpret the soft glow that warmed my face. Something inside was coiling with anticipation. I wanted to hug Mercedes, or high-five her, or something. I wanted to do something that involved celebration and dancing. I felt higher than the sky. Something about the feeling made you almost think you were weightless, gawking and squealing like small children at your new found power. Mercedes was already beginning to float, literally a few feet in the air. She was levitating right in front of me and she was giggling about it, grinning and shifting her weight so she was upside down in mid-air. I laughed at her, unsure why it was so funny.

Slowly the light began to fade from our skin and inch by inch, Mercedes came back down to the floor, flat out on her back and sighing dreamily. She marvelled at the beautiful scarlet lacy butterflies that inked her hands and forearms, twisting her arm this way and that in the light before rolling on to her stomach to show me.

"Aren't they gorgeous? I look exactly like my cousins do now, it's so cool! Even better, I can levitate and move objects and conjure, oh my God, this is gonna be the best two years ever…" She babbled excitedly while I shook my head at her. I was too busy inspecting my own marks, my own magnificent tattoos of clock pieces, cogs and hands, that dotted my skin. I couldn't believe it. I was now a fully fledged witch and there was no going back. I was what I had been born to be. I was gifted and special and now, nobody could take than away from me. Nobody. Mercedes was right, this was going to be a very good two years.


End file.
